


Pride

by Rainpebbles



Series: Shifter 'Verse [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: AU, Animal Transformation, Cute, Gen, M/M, Starter fic for series, shape shifting, shifter universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainpebbles/pseuds/Rainpebbles
Summary: James comes back to MI6 seeking out comfort for his feral senses.
Relationships: James Bond & Q, James Bond/Q
Series: Shifter 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104947
Comments: 16
Kudos: 134





	Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!  
> I'm kinda just tossing this fic out there as a tester for an AU I've been plotting in my brain. If people like the AU enough then I'll be turning this universe into a large series of stories. So hopefully you all enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts :D 
> 
> Description of shifts at the end of the fic for those who like visual details :)

As ever, London was foggy and cold as he walked along the damp streets. Cars buzzed by, the sound of puddles splashing marking the paths they took. Thanks to the rain that had no doubt plagued the city earlier that day, his shoes squelched in an equally unpleasant yet comfortingly familiar way. 

The feral part of him wanted to shed his skin for a moment to run free in the streets, exploring his home with all his senses alight, but he knew better than to give into such urges. M would have his hide pinned to the wall within hours of getting the first call from the police. His beast was not one commonly found in the city. Or even on this continent. 

His sense of smell may not have been currently at its most discriminating, but even so he could pick up the musk and burnt smell of the city around him. He let it soak back into his skin. Marked by home.

James ordered the taxi from the airport to drop him off several blocks away from MI6 for that very reason. Most of the shifter agents in Her Majesty’s employ did the same thing. A courtesy thing for other shifters as well as a way to soothe one’s own nerves. Coming into their shared territory smelling like  _ other,  _ or  _ threat  _ were hardly good for keeping MI6’s most temperamental employees calm and orderly. After all, their shifts were only skin deep, close to the surface and ready to pounce when summoned. 

* * *

Stepping into the cold halls of MI6, James let out the long sigh of relief that had been resting on his tongue since boarding the plane back in Shanghai. There was something about familiar territory that did something for the muscles along his spine. Loosening in a way that left him feeling as agile as if he were back in his fur. 

He dragged in a deep breath, filling his lungs through his nose, scenting the air for anything out of the ordinary. Paper. Ink. Shoe polish. Coffee.

Ah, yes. That seemed about right. 

James smirked and flashed his credentials at the security guards, lithely slipping into the depths of Vauxhall. 

His latest mission was of moderate risk and reward, requiring one of his  _ skills _ and nature, but not of enough import to make him feel obligated to go check in with M first, as per custom. No. James felt more drawn to the depths of Vauxhall at that moment. 

He adjusted his grip on the innocent looking black case balanced against his hip, and took a sharp left to where the lifts were and bypassed the stairs he should have taken to give his report. M could wait a bit longer. James doubted he was waiting on the edge of his seat to hear in detail how well his agent had been able to seduce his prey’s mate into bed, pulling just enough intel from her before stalking off to do what he was best at. 

He felt a satisfied purr rumble deep in his chest as he recalled how cleanly he had been able to complete his mission. His other half was still deeply pleased and satiated after this mission it seemed. The inner beast curled up content and lax somewhere beneath his skin.

It was horrifically late at night, or perhaps technically painfully early in the morning, but as James stepped into the empty lift he felt no doubt that he would find who he was looking for once he reached the basements below.

He ceased tapping his foot the moment the lift came to a stop, the screen on the wall prompting him to scan his handprint and enter a code before the doors slid open. James had to bend over slightly to reach it, but Q had been adamant that everyone should be able to reach the scanner easily, be they human, or shifted animal trying to come back.

Not that M liked his agents running around the halls shifted, but it happened occasionally that shifter agents would come home too injured or tired to put their skin back on, and Q wasn’t about to make their lives more difficult at that point. 

Being a shifter already made life difficult to start with. As a whole they were barely accepted by a society that saw most of them as threats. Some were unable to learn to control their more feral urges. Others chose to leave humankind behind, finding more acceptance from the less judgmental and far simpler animal kingdom. They made up just barely less than one percent of the population, and for that alone they started life off in a most lonely way. It didn’t help especially when one’s shift was prone to pack, flock, school or pride groupings. 

James had enjoyed his childhood as a shifter, isolated in the moors where the only judgement that he felt was from the crows wondering what the hell was running free through the valleys. Obviously, his life had changed a lot since then, but he never lost the sense of comfort his fur brought him. 

Despite the hard concrete floors of MI6 beneath his shoes, his feet did not make a sound as he prowled into a deserted Q-Branch. Well, almost deserted. Just as he predicted, he could see one blue glow of a monitor powered on in the back office.

James felt the stirring of the beast under his breast as he smirked and stalked across the room, keeping his approach silent. His gaze darted around the room as he crept forward, taking in the mess of used styrofoam cups and snack wrappers littered around multiple stations. Not even half the chairs were pushed in, being left carelessly drifted away from their harbor desks. 

It must have been a very rough day for the Q-Branch minions for their boss to have let them leave it this disorganized. The evidence pointed to a level two shit storm at least according to their own grading system of disaster days. They would no doubt scrub it back to pristine condition within the first hour of work the next day, knowing how fastidious their boss could be about the condition of his own territory. 

Regular and shifter agents found the organized and structured rooms soothing in their own way. Q-Branch was in charge of their survival for the most part, and the visual sight of the department having their shit together just made them feel all the more comfortable continuing to trust the boffins with their missions. 

Trust was needed, especially when it came to the shifters. Humans were the majority, even in the depths of MI6, and prejudices could run that deep as well. If any one of the minions were of a mind that an agent was no more valuable than an animal, then none of them would survive to see their next mission. The old Quartermaster had taken some time to come to realize this, and worked to expel those who were of that mindset, but it wasn’t until this new, current Quartermaster that agents had begun to truly feel respected and protected. The minions no longer looked at shifters any differently than their wholly human agents, and worked hard to bring them all home safe.

It was incredibly rare that any employee outside of the active agents was a shifter, after all. So incredibly rare, that James could only think of three.

One of which was Moneypenny, once an agent but now a personal assistant. Another, was M, the old dog breaking through the fences erected in government to keep the ‘freaks’ out of higher positions. 

The third? Well...

Now though, at almost three in the morning, the normally starkly bright lights were dimmed and the only sound heard was the humming from the server racks along the walls.

The door to Q’s office was slightly ajar, letting James peer in silently. 

Unlike the rest of Q-Branch, Q’s office was a bit more homey and lived in. Mostly because more often than not, he did live here. There was his desk, a workbench, a couch, and a few shelves all lining the walls of the room, worn looking pieces of furniture with little scratch marks over everything. 

If it had been a rough day at the branch, then James could be reasonably sure that--

Yes, there he was.

James eyed the owl perched on the back of the office chair, glanced down at the case in his hands, and then back at the owl again. 

He wasn’t sure if Q was aware of what he looked like while sleeping in his shifted form, but James would absolutely never be the one to tell him. Like many bird species, Q tended to unconsciously puff out his feathers in an effort to keep warm while asleep. The effect was equally adorable and hilarious, seeing his normally lithe and formal Quartermaster looking like a child’s plush toy perched on various things around his branch. 

The golden feathers of his chest rose and fell rapidly as he breathed, his beak all but tucked completely away in their plume. James smiled a bit, glad to see him get rest. He was still quite young, but he would burn out fast with this job if he didn’t catch some sleep when he could.

It had taken a while for Q to feel secure enough in his new territory to sleep shifted around his minions, after all, Q-Branch didn’t have such a good reputation in that area prior to Q’s hire. But eventually the nature of shifter biology had caught up with the chaos of his role as Quartermaster and he had found himself needing to shift occasionally to stretch his feathers as it were, or just because it was much easier to sleep in his shifted form around the branch than it was to find a place to tuck a whole human body. 

Not wanting to wake the slumbering Quartermaster, and perhaps also because James was a little hesitant to hand over the nearly empty case, James slowly began to ease his way into the office.

Tip toeing his way across the room, he kept glancing over his shoulder to where Q was still puffed and quiet, still asleep as far as James could tell. Using every stealth trick he had, James carefully placed the case onto the work table at the edge of the room, using his fingers to cushion the sound as much as he could.

The only sound he heard was his own breathing, and he felt he was home free. Turning to make his way back out of the office, he was stopped short by a sudden sound erupting from behind him.

_ Hoowoowoowoowoo _

James’ shoulders dropped in defeat as he heard the rumbling noise of his Quartermaster. No matter what the context, that particular sound always sounded like James was being scolded.

Slowly, James turned around, a charming smile already in place as he greeted the now very much awake owl. 

“Ah, hello, Quartermaster. Lovely evening isn’t it?”

Giant golden eyes narrowed at him, Q’s head bobbing a few times as he found his balance upon waking. 

_ Hoowoowoowoowoo,  _ came the judgmental reply. The puffed out feathers from before started shifting, giving him a rumpled and agitated appearance as he looked over his agent like a mouse found wanting.

“Just dropping off my kit before meeting with M. I’ll just pop off and--”

_ Hoowoowoowoowoo,  _ the noise came, his torso moving with the sounds.

This time it was a bit louder as he unfolded his wings awkwardly to flap them about. Despite only being able to speak shifter to shifter when Q was like this, James knew when he was told to freeze. Despite the ridiculous feeling of following orders from something the size of a fat cat, James stayed put and awaited judgement.

Shifting his weight back and forth on his taloned feet, wide wings held aloft Q then hopped onto the desk. The claws scraped at the wood, leaving even more scratches in the surface than before, but he hardly seemed to mind. Hazards of having sharp bits on your feet. James knew all about those.

James watched as Q side stepped across the desk, wings still held out on either side, his wide glowing gaze focused solely on the table across the office.

It was an unspoken rule among all of MI6 to never inquire why Q was such a poor flyer. He could occasionally pull off a graceful glide across larger rooms, and could flap his way up to high shelves when he wanted a higher perch on his more insecure days, but for basic flights across short or long distances, Q could barely manage a few flaps at the time before faltering. 

James had his suspicions, but held his tongue. 

Still though, James kept a close eye on that left wing as Q sprung from the desk, managing two undignified flaps before landing in a heap on the worktable. He didn’t look back at James, instead focusing completely on the case.

Clever and dexterous talons began to pick at the latch, and James felt the beginnings of what could possibly be guilt building in his sternum. Upon flicking open the lid, Q let out an indignant squawk, beating his wings around him in an agitated fashion. His beak started clicking as he rounded on James, sounding like an old school marm tutting at him. 

James at least let himself look a bit chastised.

“There was this lemur shifter, you see. And--”

_ Hoowoowoowoowoo! _

Q’s head and body were bobbing up and down as his hooted lecture started to echo around the room. It was at least a full two minutes into it when Q paused, wide eyes dilating to an alarming size as he looked down at himself, as if only just now realizing that he was still shifted.

A blink later James was looking at a rumpled Quartermaster, dressed in his usual cardigan and slacks and looking very tired and very disappointed.

“I don’t care what kind of shifter they were, it is your responsibility to bring home your equipment! Silly me, I thought you liked guns,” he said, gesturing wildly to the empty slot in the case.

James shrugged helplessly, “It’s a little difficult to hold a gun when I need all four paws to run,” he pointed out, but it was an argument that Q had already had with multiple agents multiple times. There were magnetic features on their shifter utility belts to hold their guns for them. James just rather forgot about them most of the time, but he wouldn’t tell Q that.

Q was rolling his now green eyes at him, already giving up on the gun as an argument meant to be saved for more decent hours of the day. 

“And what of the other tech?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Q paused to think it over before his face crumpled and he rubbed wearily at his eyes, “No. No, I suppose I don’t want to know. Not now at least. Save it for the report.”

The dark circles lingering under his eyes contrasted against his fair skin, physical evidence of the aforementioned level two shit storm that had no doubt hit his branch in the last few days. His guilt increased when he thought of just how annoyed Q must have been with him to waste depleted energy to shift back into his skin just to scold his agent for a poor showing. Shifting back and forth was draining on the best days, and clearly this was far from one of Q’s best days. Even near catatonia induced exhaustion though, shifters usually preferred their animal forms for rest. Something to do with higher senses of the world around them, James believed. 

Q was wearily moving through the remains on his table, sorting them into the baskets to distribute out to inventory minions the next morning. Every movement was slow and heavy, like the energy of moving his human limbs was too much effort at that moment. 

“Let me take you home, Q,” he offered into the dark and silent room.

Q peered at him over the rim of his glasses, “Don’t you have a report to deliver?”

James shrugged, “If M is still here at 3 in the bloody morning then maybe he should reconsider the meeting as well. I doubt he wants to listen to me avoid answering questions for the next hour as much as I do.”

Q stared at him for a beat before his shoulders sagged and his head tilted back, “Fine. I’ll just text him and say you’re on edge or something. Wouldn’t be the first time. He may even be grateful, if not ticked off that he waited here for nothing.”

On edge wouldn’t be a total lie, considering just how close to the surface his inner beast was at any given moment. James never saw any reason to beat it back into a cage like some others did, not when his shift was the main reason he was alive after most of the missions he took. Even now he could hear the deep rumbling within him as it took notice of a familiar shifter, the smell of the owl more soothing than the city had been.

Home. Pride.

Q’s feet dragged under him as he circled around the room collecting a few things to take back to his flat. A laptop, his bag, an empty thermos, and a baggy parka. Somehow he managed to stuff it all into the one bag, straining to heave it over his shoulder.

Until James pulled it from his lax grip, “Let me take this. Go ahead and shift. I’ll get you home,” he said softly.

Q looked like he wanted to protest, weighing the pros and cons of wasted energy shifted versus wasted energy walking. He sighed once, sent a quick text from the phone in his pocket and then the young man before him was gone, leaving a single ruffled owl standing impatiently at James’ feet.

James bent down and offered his arm.

The familiar feel of talons digging into his skin was almost as comforting as a hug some days. Not that he would admit that to anyone. Imagine what Alec would have to say if he knew. His tailor may never have said anything regarding the frequent appearance of holes in his sleeves and on the bridges of his shoulders, but he was sure that he was given a spectacular stink eye when his back was turned.

He let Q side step his way up his arm and settled down on his shoulder, his beak clicking in James’ ear as he got comfortable. 

Together they walked out of Q-Branch and off into the night.

\----------------------------------------------------

Q’s flat was as familiar as his own, even if going by appearance they were worlds apart.

While James was wide, spacious, and boasting of large sturdy furniture, Q’s was efficient and moderately cluttered with all sorts of shiny objects and lots of places to perch in his shifted form. James should have found the smaller flat to feel cramped, but instead it felt cozy. A nest just big enough for one Quartermaster and his occasional visitor that came to two sizes. Large and extra large. 

The two of them were exhausted, and in desperate need of twelve hours plus of continuous sleep. They had gone through this dance before. James escorting Q home out of propriety and security induced reasons, only to be too tense and tired to contemplate going back to his own empty flat. That would be when Q would offer his couch, which James would graciously accept. He would then place Q on whatever perch he indicated with a lazily pointed foot, being careful not to pull his arm away until all talons were unhooked from the fabric of his sleeve. 

Tonight Q asked for the back of the couch.

Easily, James let him step down and he began to ruffle about his feathers, shifting his weight and clicking all the while. Large golden eyes shifted his way, dilating hugely when James flicked off the light.

_ Hoowoowoowoowoo _

James chuckled, brushing his knuckles against the soft plumage of Q’s chest, “Yes, I’ll shift too. I know much you like having the beast around.”

_ Hoowoowoowoowoo,  _ Q hooted out, perking up a bit and shuffling his small feet under him.

Closing his eyes, James let his beast rise to the surface, the hot ripple of skin cascading over his entire body until smooth skin was replaced by coarse fur. His joints loosening and tightening as they transformed smoothly into his other self. It wasn’t painful at all, the sensation closer to that of stretching after scrunching together too long. 

James let out a happy whuff as he settled back onto four paws, extending and retracting his claws a few times just because he could. James eyed the large couch, one that Q had purchased after the third time that James had invaded his flat in his other self, and leapt up onto it.

He shook out his wide head, hair swirling and billowing around him, and then flopped down inelegantly onto the worn cushions.

Q sighed above him, “Everyone keeps asking me if I own a cat because of all the fur you shed on my things,” he said flatly, the words sounding sharper coming out of a beak. 

James chuckled, the sound deep and throaty coming from his other self, “And what do you tell them?”

Q huffed, and James felt him hop onto the top of his mane, talons easily gripping onto the strands to find a stable perch. He circled around a bit before settling down, happy in the small nest he had built using James’ hair, “I tell them a bloody big stray cat keeps following me home.”

A warm stirring erupted in his belly, the proud feeling he got at being able to provide a shelter and protection of sorts for what his inner beast claimed as part of his pride. It hardly mattered they weren’t of the same species of shifter. There were far too few of their kind to hold to those kinds of restrictions. They all took pack sense when and where they could find it, human judgements be damned. No wonder most humans were touch starved, they were far too picky in who they allowed to touch and under what menial circumstances. 

“Close enough to the truth I suppose,” James said mildly, carefully curling up on the couch so that he didn’t disturb the owl on his head. His tail flicked around a few times, carefully not hitting the lamp on the side table. He had already broken several of those. 

Q hummed softly, the sound of feathers shifting a bit as he probably began to puff out for sleep. James wished he could see the image they made. 

“Wonder what they would all think if I told them I had a pet lion,” he said slowly. James could practically hear his large eyelids blink closed.

“There would be many movie and book references used, I am sure.”

Q chuckled, the motion vibrating down to James’ skull in a pleasant way.

“Well then. Goodnight, Mufasa.”

“Goodnight, Hedwig.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! Let me know if you enjoyed this AU and want more!
> 
> James: Shift is a Senegal lion (West African Lion)
> 
> Q: Spectacled Owl. They do not make traditional owl noises, so I suggest looking up a video of their call on you tube for an example, I think the one that goes by Galaxy was my model. By the way, spectacled owl babies are just...absolutely hilarious. Omg. 
> 
> Other character shifts will be revealed if I continue the AU.


End file.
